Kit Loney

Sunday, February 7, 2010

I give a different answer each time,tell about how the horizoncreeps in on what used to bethe open-wide mouth of sky.About the way time accelerates,and clouds race, trailinglong hair into dusk.I explain how years stretchsoft and sag like old jeans,whole episodes lost in the pockets.How the other day I founda crab claw on the beach,fresh enough ripped from the bodythat the blues and tomato redswere still alive and bright,and I walked along tide's edge with it,holding hands with death.

First published in The Poetry Society of South Carolina's 2009 Yearbook